Scarlett White (21 page)

"Hey, Brantley," Tristan mumbled.

"Damn, you look…awful. What happened?" she asked casually as she took a seat across from Tristan.

"Drama." Tristan dragged his fingers through his hair.

"I can tell. You only ever actually drank coffee when you were seriously stressed out," Brantley commented as her blue eyes traveled down to the labeling on the side of the coffee cup. "It's a girl, isn't it? Who is it? Oh God, tell me it's not Alice."

"It's not Alice," Tristan said with a melancholic smile.

"Thank God. She always just managed to get under my skin. It was something about the way she knew she would get you someday, just like you were some prize she deserved." Brantley smiled as Tristan laughed, and then she was serious again. "So who is the girl?"

"Scarlett White."

"Scarlett…Scarlett…oh my God, you mean the chick with the gorgeous red hair? I was always jealous of that. Wasn't she super popular in middle school, but then something happened in the middle of eighth grade? I always loved that girl. She was so smart. So what's wrong? Don't tell me she turned you down."

"Not in so many words."

"Care to fill me in on what's been happening at Watson High?"

And he did. He told Brantley everything about what had been going down at school. He even told her about the rock incident when he decided to play Romeo. He even told Brantley how infatuated with Scarlett he was. It felt great to let it all out. He felt as if he had been pounded down by a large weight, and it was finally lifted off his shoulders as he told Brantley the entire story.

Chapter Eleven

Tristan came home
in a rage. After he had calmed down at Starbucks with Brantley, he had decided it was time to go home. But as soon as he got in his car and started thinking about what his dick brother had done, his rage had returned. He stormed through the door and yelled up the stairs, "BRYAN, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!"

A few minutes later Bryan came sliding down the stair banister with an enormous childish grin on his face. "What's got your mood in a gutter?" he asked sarcastically.

This just lit the fire boiling inside Tristan's chest. His brother should not be happy. This was definitely not a time to be happy. This was a time to be angry and frustrated.

"Four years ago, when you were in fifth grade, do you remember anything about a girl named Scarlett White?" Tristan asked trying to calm down enough to get a straight answer out of his brother.

"Scarlett White...Scarlett...oh, yeah, she was a hottie!" Bryan said, finally remembering.

"Bryan, shut up. What do you remember about her?"

"Um...She had red, curly hair, cute clothes. I know her dad was, like, some millionaire or something. She had a family problem though. It's kinda fuzzy."

"A family problem, meaning a half-brother?" Tristan asked, taking deep breaths to keep himself from screaming at his younger brother.

"Uh...Yeah, that was it. Oh, wait...I do remember. She was outside behind the school—which is against the rules if you're a student, tsk, tsk—and she was talking to a boy; he looked older. But she was crying. Something the boy had said. What was it...what was it?" Bryan looked up at the ceiling, tapping his index finger against his chin.

"Maybe something like their father was dead?" Tristan suggested.

"Yeah, that was it. And he had murdered him."

"Why were you behind the school building?" Tristan asked.

"I...um...no reason."

"Bryan, you better not keep any secrets from me or I'm telling mom you broke her gold hoops," Tristan threatened.

"You wouldn't," Bryan whispered.

"I would, and you know it."

Bryan took a deep breath and said, "Fine. I liked her. She was hot and popular and rich. I followed her behind the building. And when I heard what her half-brother said, I ran for it."

"You...liked...Scarlett? Bryan, you are three years younger than she is."

"So? She was the stuff back then. What happened to her? Did she get ugly in high school? Or fat? God, I hope she didn't get fat because she had so much going for her."

"Never mind that," Tristan said, thinking. This still didn't explain how Alice found out. "What did you do after you ran?"

"I...uh...I don't remember."

"Gold hoops," Tristan sing-songed, reminding Bryan of their mother's earrings that he had broken.

"Ugh...hold on, let me think. It was a long time ago, jeez. Oh...I ran into some girl with brown hair. I don't remember her name though. She wasn't that pretty."

Well, that definitely changed,
Tristan thought. "Does Alice Barrington ring a bell?" he asked.

"Yeah, that was the brunette, right?" Bryan asked.

Tristan nodded and indicated that Bryan should continue.

"Okay, well, I ran into this Alice, and she asked me what the hurry was. I told her I had a major problem on my hands. Though it wasn't really my problem, but if people found out that I knew about Scarlett's half-brother murdering their parents, something bad would happen," Bryan said. "She asked me what, but I didn't tell her at first. Finally she promised she would keep the secret, so I told her. The end. That was it," Bryan finished.

"And then Alice must have posted the paper on the bulletin board," Tristan said under his breath.

"What paper?"

"The paper that ruined Scarlett's life. Bryan, you were an accessory to the crime." Tristan was trying to work his brother up. He knew that Bryan hated getting into trouble. "You have to tell Scarlett you're sorry."

"But I didn't mean to. Alice promised to keep it a secret."

"And that is why you don't trust girls three years over your age," Tristan said a devilish smile on his lips. "Call Scarlett up and tell her you're sorry," he repeated.

"But why?"

"Because she thinks I did it. And I need you to tell her I didn't."

"Why do I care if she thinks you did it or not?" Bryan asked.

"Gold hoops," Tristan simply answered.

Bryan groaned, "Well, why do
you
care if she thinks you did it or not?"

"Gold hoops," Tristan repeated, not wanting to answer Bryan's question just yet.

Bryan rolled his eyes and said, "Fine" with a look of defeat on his face.

"But I don't know her number," Bryan said. "So I guess I can't call her. Darn!"

Tristan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, "But I do."

"How?"

"We're science partners," Tristan simply said. But the truth was when he had gone to her house the other night, after she had hurt herself and after her mother—that bitch—was as rude as hell and told him to leave, as he had walked through the kitchen to leave, he saw a piece of paper with phone numbers listed on it, and it accidentally fell into his pocket. "Now call her."

Bryan grudgingly plucked the cell phone out of Tristan's grasp and looked through his contacts until he came across the name "Scarlett" and he hit the green 'send' button.

"Hi...um...Scarlett?" Bryan asked into the phone nervously. His expression went from loathing of his brother to the look of confusion. "She's crying," he mouthed to Tristan.

Tristan remembered this afternoon when she had caught Francis cheating on her, and his heart felt funny...

Bryan bit his lip and explained what had happened four years ago. "…So, I was tricked by Alice. I really didn't mean to—" Bryan stopped talking and then, "Thank you. I knew you would understand. Okay, well, I'll let you finish your homework." And he hung up the phone.

"Why was she crying?" he asked Tristan.

"Francis," Tristan answered through clenched teeth. "I'm heading over there. We...have a project to finish," he lied. "Tell mom I'll be home for dinner."

And Tristan was back out the door and in his silver convertible before Bryan could even make a response. Tristan drove twenty miles past the speed limit, but he didn't care. Actually he didn't even care why his heart was beating so hard as he drove to Scarlett's house. He didn't even think about it because he was only thinking about Scarlett, which didn't scare him that much anymore.

As he sped down Scarlett's road, his eyes accidentally slipped over to glance at Alice's house. It was completely quiet and still, and he didn't know why he had looked, but as soon as his brown eyes landed on it, his mind was invaded with thoughts of the night they had had sex in his car. He was still disgusted by the idea of it. He just couldn't believe that she had drugged him to have sex with him. How pathetic? But another thought entered his mind. What if she got pregnant? He didn't have any condoms in his car and he didn't know if she was on the pill, so he had no idea if he was going to become her baby's daddy or not. The thought scared him. The thought frustrated him. It angered him. Why did she do such a barbaric thing? What kind of bitch was she?

But then he pulled into Scarlett's driveway, and his thoughts of Alice immediately ceased.

Scarlett was on her bed, sobbing into her arms. Though she had had her doubts about Francis, she had really thought that Francis had cared for her. He had been so kind to her and had treated her like a real person, instead of sending jabbing jokes her way and calling her a nerd or loser. But what really made Scarlett want to kill herself was that the best part of dating Francis Rogers was the popularity that came with it. She must be a real bitch to only care about those kinds of things. But it felt good to be liked by everyone again. It felt like middle school when she had had no worries and had been completely carefree.

Scarlett was home alone again. Her mother was out at some bar with her other stupid, alcoholic friends. Scarlett hadn't heard the sound of a car drive up and park in her driveway and she hadn't heard the sound of a door slamming. She barely heard the sound of pounding at her door. She snapped her head up and began to furiously wipe her tears away. She couldn't be seen like this. What if it was Ginny or Kate? She didn't want to be seen looking so vulnerable. She hadn't been caught crying since eighth grade. She quickly scrambled out of her bed and almost tripped down her stairs as she ferociously wiped away the last of her tears. But she wasn't ignorant of the fact that her eyes were still probably very red and puffy.

She wasn't in the same thing she had worn to school. For school she had found a pair of designer jeans back from eighth grade and surprisingly still fit into them. Well, she hadn't grown much since she was thirteen. And she had also found an old pink ruffled button down blouse that she had worn to school. But now she was in a random black—pretty tight—T-shirt, cotton shorts, and white socks. Her hair, which had been decent today, was now an unruly mess of wild curls that framed her eye-liner streaked face.

She stood behind the closed door for a few seconds, trying to wipe the remaining tears away. Finally when she looked halfway presentable, she peeked through the eyehole of the door and saw Tristan Cox. What that hell was he doing here again? Granted it was a decent hour this time, but whatever. Scarlett whipped back around and leaned against the door for support, her breathing suddenly increased. What was he doing here? They had already finished their project. She had finally told him about their past. Why was he still stalking her? The pounding he made shook the door and her body since she was currently using the door for support. Finally, after much contemplation, she saw no other choice but to let him in and she opened the door, revealing a concerned looking Tristan. She stood there frozen, waiting for him to say the first word. When he didn't, she gathered all of her strength to try and not stutter.